


You Light Me Up

by BlueLiliesStars



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Sad Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLiliesStars/pseuds/BlueLiliesStars
Summary: A sad Grantaire thinks of his love.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	You Light Me Up

If you asked Grantaire he would say without a doubt: Yes, I'm in love.  
Which, not many people belived, and it was the most unfortunate thing that his beloved was one of them.

For some reason the light in Grantaire's bleeding heart, the fire that kept hin warm, didn't thought he was capable to feel love like anybody else; perhaps he was right.  
He did not felt like anybody else, what he felt was dangerous for his wellbeing.  
He felt a fire that burned his insides slowly and ate his dreams.  
He felt it's claws leaving battle scars on his heart, an inferno that promised to set his body ablaze.

He should be over it, his love will never love him back, he was just an annoying brat tauting the revolutionary. He was just a drunk.  
But he didn't wanted to be just that, he wanted to be oh, so much more than that.  
He dreamed with the stars, he dreamed with painting the perfect sundown and sunrise, he dreamed with blond curls touching his finger and caressing them.

He just felt a wave of yearning towards life and it's opportunities, the little things that made it pleasent, even, beautiful.  
And if he yearned for life he yearned for Enjolras, because that was the way it was; life sometimes wasn't fair, neither was Enjolras.  
Life was beautiful, so was Enjolras.  
Life was funny, as Enjolras was.  
To Grantaire, Enjolras was the one that lighted his days.  
He was the one that was able to make his moods change, he held so much power over Grantaire that it truly frighten him sometimes.

For he knew that death would be sweeter if Enjolras was by his side.  
Enjolras, Enjolras, Enjolras. What have you done with this poor sinner's heart?

What had he done in past lives to be cursed by Eros with such scorn and mockery?  
Had he been a Narcissus, full of ego and suitors whom he had turned?   
Had he fooleshly thought that he was more beautiful than the gods of love? Had he procclaimed that he was the more loveable?  
Or had he been a drunk. A drinking partner and companion on Dyonisious time as a demigod?  
What had he done to deserve someone as Apollo in his life but at the same time never be enough for him?

And here he was. In his bedroom, musing a bottle of cheap wine, making a man into a god with his words.

He thinks and thinks about it. He yearns for it. He lives for it.  
He lived for stolen instances when, sometimes (what a cruel word), Enjolras looked at his direction with something close to fondness, when Enjolras did something wonderful as smile at him. 

He was a wreck. A wreck that really needed to get all his pieces together before his beloved looked too close, too much into his person and see the cracks. The wounds he tended in the solitude of his bedroom after a nasty fight with him, prevent him to realize just how much his words could hurt.  
Enjorlas was a cruel man when he needed to be. Ready to fight a war for his beliefs, ready to weaponize and do what it needs to get done.

And he loved him. Oh, how he loved him.

He loved him as a boy love the stars.  
As a florist nurses the flowers.  
As a man should not love another man in their times.

He just wanted everything Enjolras could give him.  
Be it scorn, be it hatred, be it friendship, be it...love, maybe, in another life.  
He was content to just gravitate around him.  
He didn't cared if he changed, everyone changes, everything changes, he just wanted to change and grow with Enjolras side by side. As equals. As partners.

But one part of him, a self depreciating part of him, reminded him that he always was going to be, deep down, just a scared little kid who was afraid of the world. Who will try to clutch onto the comfort of the known, on the sweetness of wine and the burn of liquor.  
That he will try to change, to make a change and he will fail.  
He will fail.  
He will fail.  
And he will fall just like Icarus.  
No god near to hear his prayers, no god merciful with his soul.

And people thought he didn't know love.  
Grantaire laughs to that. He wishes and he sleeps with hope in his heart, still.  
He was a fool for still hoping. But he hoped that his prayers to lift the weight in his chest.  
And he dreams. He dreams of Eros, Aphrodite and all of their kind. And he smiles.  
Apollo makes himself present in his dream and he lights it up. He is burning and lights up the darkness in his mind. Oh, the bitter aftertaste will not be present for a while.


End file.
